TOW the Thanksgiving That Never Was
by writerchic16
Summary: On Thanksgiving, married Monica and Chandler are thrown into an alternate universe where they are able to find out what their lives would be like if they never met.
1. Chapter 1

**TOW the Thanksgiving that Never Was**

Summary: On Thanksgiving, married Monica and Chandler are thrown into an alternate universe where they are able to find out what their lives would be like if they never met.

A/N: Don't give me too much credit – this entire plot is based on an episode of "Mad About You." I got hooked on it during the summer, and saw the episode "Up in Smoke," where Jamie and Paul find out what their lives would be like if they never met. Though on that show, it

Frankly, I'm surprised there aren't more Friends/Mad About You crossovers, considering that Phoebe is related to one of the characters.

One last note. I'm going to _try_ to get this done by Thanksgiving. 11 days and counting!

* * *

_Thanksgiving 2003_

Leaning on the back of the couch, Chandler raised an eyebrow as his wife buzzed around the kitchen. It was times like these when her neurotic personality made him worry about her health…both the physical and mental. "Honey, do the words 'obsessive compulsive' mean anything to you?"

"In my book, they translate to 'the only way to get dinner ready on time,'" Monica replied, not even glancing as she ran around the apartment kitchen.

Chandler went to stand next to her while she chopped onions for the stuffing. "Let me help you! I'm not completely incompetent…for the most part…"

"Whatever happened to your aversion to Thanksgiving food?" Monica groaned. She tried to ignore him while she got yet another pan out of a bottom cabinet. "It was great! You'd watch TV, I wouldn't want to hurt you..."

Backing up a little bit, Chandler protested, "I'll forgo any anti-Thanksgiving feelings as long as you stop zipping around! You are not a cartoon!"

"First of all, _forgo_?" Monica retorted. "And secondly…I'm not a what?"

"A cartoon. You know, at times if you move fast enough you remind me of the Road Runner," Chandler quipped.

Giving him an exasperated glare, Monica slammed a bowl on the counter. "Chandler, I don't need this right now. If you're bursting with turkey day spirit, go watch the parade."

"Okay, you want to know why I haven't been my usual cynical self the past few years?" Chandler snapped. "Because we met on Thanksgiving!"

That finally got Monica to stop moving for a minute. "Oh. We did, didn't we? But that happened long before we started celebrating together…"

"Well, we weren't a couple back then," Chandler pointed out.

Monica seemed to be speechless, then sighed. "You're right. I can't believe I never even made that connection. Wow…so we've known each other for sixteen years today. Happy anniversary," she joked, kissing him.

Kissing her back, Chandler laughed, "I just remembered the first words we said to each other. 'Hi, I'm Ross' little sister.'"

"Oh, and that's better than 'okay'?" Monica reminded him.

Chandler felt his face redden. "Yeah, sorry about that. But in my defense, I did inspire you to be a chef to make up for it."

"I guess you did. It was the first time anyone said I should be a chef," Monica recalled, now smiling while she prepared the turkey to go in the oven.

Chandler paused at that. After a moment, he asked, "Can you imagine how different our lives would be if Ross hadn't brought me home that that Thanksgiving? We might not know each other now."

"Oh, there's no way that would've happened. You were Ross' roommate," Monica reasoned.

Getting into the theory, Chandler went on, "Really? If I never went home with Ross, at all, in four years in college, or you never came up…you don't think it's possible?"

"A bit of a stretch, but possible," Monica admitted. "But then you got the apartment across the hall…"

"Only because Ross mentioned that you'd be right across the hall. I mean, I know we didn't speak then, but I figured at least you weren't a stranger. Otherwise, I think I would have moved in with Ross,'" Chandler informed her.

At that, Monica stared at him. "I never knew that. Wow, our lives really would be different, huh?"

"Scary to think about, isn't it?" Chandler agreed. Noting that she was struggling with a heavy pot, he went to grab it. "Here, let me get that…"

Balancing the pot with one hand, Monica swatted him away with the other. "I can handle it, sweetie. Why don't you set up the buffet? The box of silverware is on it already."

"Oh, fine, give me the chore a five year old can do…" Chandler grumbled, going over to the box.

He was surprised at how much silverware there actually was. There were numerous sets, and the plates ranged from small bread dishes to large dinner ones. Shifting a few objects, Chandler came across a medium-sized bowl that had to be at least twenty years old. Pulling it out, he examined the formal bowl, probably meant for soups at fancy dinner parties. "Hey Mon, how come this is in here? It doesn't match the other sets."

"Oh, that…" Monica replied, taking a minute to glance at it. When she realized what it was, she put down what she had been holding and went over to Chandler's side. "That's, ah…that's the bowl from that first Thanksgiving. The one I served you macaroni and cheese in. My mom was getting rid of some old stuff and…I decided to keep it."

Giving her a quick kiss, Chandler placed it on the corner of the table. "Aw, that's so sweet. We should keep it out this year."

"Good idea," Monica replied, going back into the kitchen.

About fifteen minutes later, Chandler was done with setting the buffet. He had stacked the silverware and the plates near the bowl. Taking the box off and putting it on the floor, he knocked off some forks. Bending over to collect them, Chandler went to stand…and hit his head on the table in the process.

What happened next seemed to proceed in agonizingly slow motion. The flimsy table trembled like there was an earthquake. Near the edge, the twenty-year-old bowl slid off the table and crashed onto the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces.

The two simply stared at the mess for a minute, disbelief on each of their faces. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Chandler stuttered, "O-oh my God, Monica, I am so, so sorry…"

"N-no, it was an accident…" Monica stammered, but Chandler swore there were tears welling in her eyes. Wiping them away, Monica reached under the counter for a dust pan and broom. "It doesn't matter, anyway. It really wasn't that important."

She didn't fool him. Chandler knew his wife well enough to know when she was very upset. "No, honey, I'll clean that up. Why don't you sit down for a little while? You need a break."

"But…" Monica was about to protest, but gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. I need to call Ross and ask him something anyway."

While Chandler cleaned, Monica got the living room phone and dialed. "Hey, Ross. Um, can you do me a favor and bring over a couple of serving dishes? I can't seem to find all of mine."

"Who is this?"

Monica wrinkled her brow in confusion at Ross's question. "Um, it's Monica, _your sister_?"

"_Monica_? Why the hell are you calling about serving dishes? We haven't spoken in months."

Hearing Ross' exclamation, Chandler stopped cleaning and went over to listen. Sharing a glance with Monica, he replied, "Dude, what are you talking about? You just saw her yesterday!"

"_Chandler_? What the hell…why are you with my _sister_? I've never even introduced you!"

"Okay, Ross, stop it," Monica ordered. "You're really freaking me out."

There was a silence, then he responded, "Look, I don't know if you're trying to make me fell guilty for sticking you with Mom and Dad last Thanksgiving since I went to London with Emily…"

"_Emily_?" Now it was Monica's turn to be shocked. "B-but…"

"But I don't appreciate it. I'll see you at Christmas."

With that, he hung up.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Whoa, ten reviews in a day? Thanks! I really didn't think I'd get that many reviews, especially since I wrote most of it at 3 in the morning (boy am I tired). Don't ask why, something about a game of Mario Party taking like two hours to finish…

I doubt any of you care, but there was a major typo in the last author's note. When I was explaining about the Mad About You episode, I started a sentence with "Though on that show, it…" and left it hanging. What I meant to say was, "Though on that show, it (the episode) happened on the couple's third anniversary, I thought it would be appropriate to turn it into a Friends Thanksgiving story." Sorry about that.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Emily?" Monica sputtered, trying in vain to wrap her mind around what had to be the strangest phone conversation she'd ever had. "Ross hasn't mentioned her in _years_! What the hell was that?"

Chandler couldn't stop staring at the phone, too confused to do anything else. "Yeah! And what did he mean, 'I've never even introduced you'?"

"There's only one way to settle this," Monica stated, dragging Chandler out the door and across the hall.

Struggling to maintain his balance, Chandler asked, "What are you doing?"

Monica reached apartment 19 and barged in. Or tried to, anyway. Much to her and Chandler's surprise, the door was locked. She banged on the door. "Joey? Rachel? You guys in there?"

The person who opened the door was neither of their friends. Instead, a dark haired man stared back at them, obviously annoyed at the interruption. "Monica? What are you doing? Who are Joey and Rachel?"

"What…" Monica was so thrown off she couldn't respond for a second. "Who are you? And where are my friends?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "I'm Ira. I moved in a few months ago, you made me that casserole when I first moved in…ringing any bells?"

"No. Where are Joey and Rachel?" Monica demanded, knowing that this guy was thinking she was more and more crazy.

Rolling his eyes, Ira opened the door wider so they could see into the apartment. Everything was completely different. There were no traces that her friends had ever lived there. Instead, it was decorated in a modern style with what looked like very expensive furniture. "See? Your friends aren't here."

"Oh…I guess they aren't. Um, sorry for the intrusion," Monica replied, not protesting when he closed the door without another word.

Chandler had only been able to watch the encounter in silence, shocked to the core by the unusual state of what he had come to call Joey's apartment. "Okay, that wasn't Joey."

"And apparently he's lived there for months," Monica agreed, going back into their apartment. When Chandler followed, she closed their door. "What is going _on_?"

Thinking, Chandler let out a deep breath. "Okay, first you call Ross, and he acts like he never sees you other than holidays, and claims he's still married to Emily. Then, some stranger is living in Joey and Rachel's apartment. There has to be a connection here."

"Wait…Ross also said…" Trailing off , Monica began to put two and two together.

Motioning for her to continue, Chandler urged, "Ross also said…"

"Oh my God, why didn't we think about this?" Monica exclaimed, grabbing her purse off the counter. She held up her driver's license.

Chandler didn't get it. "You're…finally letting me see how old you really are?"

"No, Chandler, look!" Monica ordered.

Taking the license, Chandler gaped at it. "You weigh 160?"

"I do not!" Monica answered, looking at the license again. She hadn't noticed that. "I meant the address! It's different!"

Chandler took it back. "What? Oh my God! Never mind the address! Look at the name!"

"The name?" Monica leaned over to examine it, then gasped. It read:

Monica E. Becker

"Becker…Becker…" Chandler paused, trying to place the name. "Where do we know that name from?"

Monica, however, recognized it instantly. "Oh, my God. According to this, I'm married to Pete! You remember, that millionaire I dated a _long_ time ago?"

"But you're not married to Pete, you're…" He trailed off, finally seeing what she was getting at. "Oh God. We're not married!"

Nodding, Monica kept staring at the license. "More than that. I don't think…we've ever met. It doesn't make sense, and I don't know how it can. Let me get your license."

"Why? My last name stays the same no matter what," Chandler asked, but got out his license anyway. He froze once he noted the address. "Oh, no no no no no…"

Monica grabbed it from him. "What? Oh my God…"

"Good, you know what it means. Then I don't have to say it," Chandler groaned, massaging his temple.

Now pacing the kitchen, Monica reasoned, "Okay, let's figure this out. If we've never met, how come Ross acted like he barely recognized me? We still would be siblings."

"But you only started hanging out together because Ross came over so much when I got the apartment," Chandler reminded her.

Monica replied, "That's right. But why is he married to Emily? He met her through Rachel, and if the six of us apparently don't hang out anymore…"

"Maybe him and Emily were meant to be," Chandler deadpanned. "You know, this might be easier if I went to talk to him. It sounded like we were still close. He recognized my voice before yours."

Sighing, Monica got her coat and headed toward the door. "And I'll go to Phoebe's. The way it works out in my head, she should still be living in her grandmother's apartment. Maybe Joey and Rachel are there too."

"Monica…" Chandler began. When she stopped, he went on, "I hope this is a nightmare, because I'll be miserable not knowing you."

Smiling, Monica gave him a long kiss. "I know. Me too."

Once she left and closed the door behind her, Chandler groaned at the daunting task of getting back to reality. _Why must all my Thanksgivings suck ass?

* * *

_

A peculiar thing was happening to Monica as she drove over to what she hoped would still be Phoebe's apartment. It seemed with every block she passed, it became harder and harder to remember why she was going over to her best friend's house in the first place.

Or where she was going. Though she knew the route to Phoebe's apartment like the back of her hand, every turn she made was the wrong one. And no matter what she told herself, she never went back to correct the mistake. It was almost as if the car was in control now, and she was supposed to just sit back and enjoy the ride.

After ten missed turns, she gave up and found herself in front of a strange apartment building. Well, it should have been strange, but for some reason there was a sense of familiarity to it. Nut sure exactly what she was doing, she grabbed her purse and got out of the car.

_What are you doing here?_ Part of her brain was shouting. _You're supposed to be at Phoebe's place so you can get back to…back to…_

Monica paused in her tracks, confused. Why hadn't she remembered Chandler's name?

Still, she continued into the building. Pressing the buzzer that weirdly enough had Phoebe's name on it, she said, "Phoebe? It's me."

Phoebe's voice filtered through the speaker. "Okay, come on up."

Climbing three flights of stairs, she was in her friend's apartment several minutes later. She was almost in a bewildered daze when Phoebe let her in.

"I'm so glad you could make it over here before you went to work!" Phoebe exclaimed, gesturing for Monica to sit on the couch.

Sitting, Monica looked around the apartment. "Um, Phoebe…have you always lived here?"

"Ever since I moved out of your apartment five years ago, yeah," Phoebe replied, giving her friend a concerned glance as she sat down.

"Five years ago? But what about your grandmother's place…" Monica argued unsteadily, getting the vague sensation that this whole set up wasn't right.

Phoebe stared at her. "My grandmother? She's been dead for years…I passed on her place because I was living with you, remember? Mon, are you feeling okay? Maybe you shouldn't go to work."

"Work?" Monica wrinkled her brow, trying to remember what her job was. "But it's Thanksgiving!"

"I know! I offered you to come with me to spend it with Mike's family, but you said you'd rather earn double time at the restaurant," Phoebe reminded her.

Digesting the information, Monica stuttered, "But…Ross…"

"Is going to London with Emily again, at least, that's what you told me. You said you'd rather wait on customers than spend another miserable night with your parents," Phoebe finished for her. "Geez, Monica, I always thought you were the brains of this friendship."

Monica gazed at her for a long moment, then put a hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry Phoebe, I'm just…not myself today."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A/N: Again, thanks for all the reviews! It's a little overwhelming, actually. I almost feel bad that this isn't going to be more than like six chapters long.

* * *

Chandler experienced the same sensation while taking a cab over to what he knew to be Ross' apartment. The driver took totally different turns. Trying to open his mouth to protest, Chandler found himself swallowing his words every time.

They wound up parked in front of a condominium building. Getting out of the cab and paying the driver, Chandler stared at it for a long moment. _Why am I _here

Shrugging, he went inside, walking up the somewhat familiar stairs to Ross' second floor condo. Hr rang the bell.

"Chandler! What are you doing here? We were just heading over to Ross' mum and dad's."

Hearing that British accent again was enough to make Chandler nearly jump out of his skin. "Emily! I wasn't expecting to see you…"

"Why wouldn't you. I do live here," Emily replied, titling her head in bewilderment.

Scratching behind his ear, Chandler muttered, "Yeah, I guess you do. Um, can I talk to Ross?"

"Sure. You'll have to wait a minute, though. He's in the loo getting ready. Have a seat," Emily answered, moving further into the living room.

Doing so, Chandler kept looking at her in total disbelief as she went into the kitchen. He couldn't comprehend how…she and Ross weren't in London. "No, see, what I meant was that when I talk to Ross last week, he was all gung-ho about seeing your family today. You know, as part of your 'his parents get Christmas, you use your Thanksgiving to go to England" thing."

"Oh, that," Emily replied, in the process of taking out some aluminum trays from the fridge. "I guess he hasn't told you. We were going to go to London, but his sister cancelled too. Something about wanting to work. I suppose she needs the money after divorcing that millionaire."

_His sister._ Chandler paused, wondering what caused the sudden strange feeling he was getting. Ross talked about his sister all the time, but hell if he could remember her name. "Well, yeah, that's gotta suck. So under reasons for divorce, was there listed 'hot young blonde' and 'a dozen Long Island Iced Teas'?"

Bringing the trays into the living room and setting them on the coffee table, Emily laughed. "No actually, I think she wanted the divorce. Go figure."

"Yeah. Some people are weird," Chandler remarked. "So, you were saying..."

Emily continued, "Right. His sister cancelled, so his parents made him feel so guilty that the parents agreed to swap holidays this year. I swear, the stuff they make him do, trying to control who he sees…"

"Uh huh. Crazy," Chandler agreed, getting another wave of déjà vu.

The two were interrupted as Ross came in from the hallway that led to the bedrooms, dressed in a suit. He held a tie in each of his hands. "Okay which one…hey Chandler…"

"I'm flattered you'd ask, but I don't really give a crap about tie color," Chandler quipped.

Emily put in, "The blue one. If you two will excuse me, I have to finish getting ready. I'll see you later Chandler. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, you too," Chandler replied.

Ross glanced at him. "Someone just wished you a happy Thanksgiving and you didn't grimace. What's up, man? Did you want to talk to me about something?"

"I did…don't remember what it was, but I did," Chandler answered, his mind a little fuzzy. "Ross, refresh my memory. How did you and Emily meet?"

His face showing concern, Ross went with it anyway, "It was about six years ago, remember? She was in Manhattan visiting her father, we got a paper at the same newsstand, got to talking…is this sounding familiar?

"A little. And the, ah, wedding went smoothly, right? You didn't say the wrong name or anything?" Chandler inquired, not positive why he was asking these questions.

"Say the wrong name? How stupid would I have to be to do that?" Ross scoffed. "You should know anyway. You were my best man."

Feeling uncomfortable at the now high level of déjà vu, Chandler responded, "Yeah, right, sorry."

"it's okay. Wait, aren't you supposed to be having twenty in-laws over? What are you doing here?" Ross asked.

Chandler sighed, "I needed a breather. You know much my wife's been getting on my nerves. Today it was all 'do this, clean that'. And she knows how much I can't stand Thanksgiving food."

"You know, you and she have been fighting for a while now," Ross pointed out. "You're not…"

"I'm not sure. I mean, we've been together for almost ten years. To divorce now…kind of seems like the chicken's way out." Chandler paused. "Sorry dude."

Ross shrugged, "Don't worry about it. Carol and I did what we could. But I'm definitely sticking with Emily as long as I can. There's no way I'm getting two divorces. I mean, I see what my sister's going through now, and it only reminds me of how much I don't want to feel that again."

"Of course. You and Emily are a great couple," Chandler assured him.

Turning to go back into the bedroom, Ross replied, "Thanks. I gotta go get this tie on. We have to get going soon. But you're welcome to hide out here for as long as you want."

"Thanks, but I have to be getting back too. Pretending to be in the shower has its limits," Chandler joked, messing up his hair as he rushed out of the condo.

* * *

"Sure you don't want any help?" Monica asked. She was still at Phoebe's apartment, looking on as Phoebe made her special chocolate chip cookies to bring over to Mike's parent's house.

Shaking her head, Phoebe answered, "I swore to my grandmother that I would never tell anyone else the recipe."

"But you're letting me watch," Monica argued.

Pausing, Phoebe slapped the counter in aggravation. "Aw, damn! Okay, you can grease that baking sheet if you want."

"I promise I won't tell anyone," Monica replied, laughing. While she did so, she asked, "So, are you nervous about meeting Mike's family tonight?"

After thinking a minute, Phoebe answered, "I'm really not. I thought I would be, but I think I just love him so much that I don't care if they love me or not. I know Mike does, and that's all that matters."

"Aw, Pheebs," Monica sighed, absentmindedly tossing the baking spray from one hand to the other after she finished the sheet. "I never felt that way about Pete. I guess that should've been a clue not to marry him, huh?"

"I've told you a million times. You can't beat yourself up about this," Phoebe ordered, adding the last of the ingredients into the cookie mix.

"I guess so." Grabbing her purse, Monica searched for a ponytail holder so that her hair wouldn't get in the dough while she was helping Phoebe. Her hand brushed against her driver's license, which had somehow fallen out of her wallet.

It still declared her to be Monica E. Becker. Despite the fact that it mocked her every time she looked at it, she hadn't found time to change it yet. "It's funny. The DMV still sees me as Monica E. Becker. Maybe it still should."

"It also thinks you weigh 160 pounds," Phoebe retorted, pointing to the card first than to Monica's recently thin waist.

Monica had to admit that she was right. Until about six months ago, she was overweight. Granted, not as bad as high school, but she just hadn't had the motivation to go on a full-fledge diet.

But with the recent divorce to Pete, she realized she could finally fulfill her dream to be a chef. And losing the weight when she was cooking every day would be near impossible.

"I just don't know what I was thinking," Monica sighed, decisively putting away the license. "Why did I marry him if I didn't love him?"

Putting a comforting arm around Monica, Phoebe answered, "Because you were scared. You were nearing thirty with no long-term romantic prospects, I was finally going to move out, you didn't want to be alone…you can't really blame yourself for not resisting when handsome rich Pete came along."

"Yes I can. I shouldn't have been weak," Monica snapped, then ducked from under her friend's arm and went over to the bowl of cookie dough. "So, want me to start putting this on the cookie sheet?"

Noting the abrupt subject change and all too happy to comply, Phoebe nodded, "Yeah, thanks. I promised I'd make my oatmeal cookies too if you wanna help…"

"I would, but I'm stalling as it is," Monica responded, beginning to work on the cookies.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "Stalling?"

"I left my work Id at Pete's pent house when I went to pick up some stuff a few days ago," Monica answered, her face revealing her displeasure at the idea of seeing her ex again. "If I don't have it today, they'll start taking a penalty fee from my paycheck."

Phoebe gave her a sympathetic look. "Good luck with that."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A/N: Five days and counting. I think I might make it.

Crap, hope I didn't just jinx myself.

Also, wanted to clear up a little misunderstanding. Of course they don't celebrate Thanksgiving in England. I said that Ross and Emily _use their vacation time_ to visit her family since the Gellers get Christmas.

Oh, and, yes, I didn't reveal who Chandler's wife is yet (little bit of evilness on my part, hehe). But I think the first line will give you a clue…

* * *

"Oh…my…God!" 

Chandler winced, his usual reaction lately to hearing his wife's voice. Sneaking through the front door, at first he was horrified that she had caught him.

However, a second look proved that she had been on the phone in the kitchen of their apartment, her back turned to him.

Counting his blessings, Chandler made his way into the bedroom. At a rapid speed, he grabbed a towel, undressed, and turned the water on as he jumped in the shower.

"Ah! Holy crap!"

He'd made the mistake of only turning on the cold water. Shivering, he added some heat with the other knob and tried to calm himself down.

A minute later, the bathroom door was opened and Janice Bing poked her head in. "Chandler? What was that shout?"

"Um…I…ran out of hot water," Chandler lied. Going along with it, he switched off the water – both at the same time – and reached for his towel. "Sorry if I scared you."

"No, I'm just glad you're here! You've been in there for so long I was afraid you'd snuck out on me or something," Janice joked, letting out her usual grating laugh. However, there was a note of accusation in her tone – this wasn't the first shower he'd taken that lasted longer than a half hour.

The sound like nails scratching on the chalkboard of his mind, Chandler gritted his teeth. "No, no no, I was just…making sure I washed thoroughly. Dirt between your toes can be a real bitch if you don't keep up on it."

"I'll take your word for it," Janice wrinkled her nose at the image. "Get dressed quick, okay? Ma said she's gonna be here in ten minutes."

"Oh, in that case…" Chandler mockingly wrapped the towel around his waist in a flash and leaped out of the tub.

Janice only gave him an exasperated glance before going back to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"'Get dressed quick, okay?'" Chandler mimicked, securing the towel around his waist and getting out his toothbrush with deliberate slowness.

Finishing getting dressed five minutes later, he paused as he went to put on his sock. There was something about the fact that he had two toes that made him stare for a moment. Come to think of it, it did feel like he had been walking a little strangely all day. Shaking his head, he put on his sock, got on his shoes, and prepared himself for a day he predicted would be a walk in the park.

If that park was located in hell.

"Do need me to do anything?" Chandler asked, with a voice that clearly conveyed that he was offering against his will.

As usual, she took no heed of his reluctance and gestured to a full and tied garbage bag sitting in the corner. "Take that down to the dumpster. And since you're going to be out anyway, run down to that deli on the corner and get me some milk, eggs, and cinnamon."

"At your service," Chandler grunted, picking up the heavy bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He went into the living room, and was so startled he dropped the bag.

A German shepherd rested on one of the couches, his head on the arm. When Chandler entered, he let out a round of barks. "Whoa there…uh…"

"Aaron. Honestly, I know you don't love him, but I would think you'd remember his name after a few years," Janice chided, then continued to cook without bothering to quiet the dog down.

Chandler glanced from Janice, to the dog, and back. "Wha…when did I agree to get a _dog_?" Giving the shepherd a wary look, he inched his way towards the kitchen.

"Oh, don't even go there. After we got married, _I_ wanted to have a baby, then get a dog when the baby was older. But oh no, Mr. Issues over here begged me to settle for Aaron," Janice ranted.

Not responding for a minute, Chandler thought about that, and the state their marriage was in. _What happened to us?_

He supposed it started with the fact that he hadn't really wanted to marry her in the first place. About right years ago, he was living in an apartment with Ross. They had both established that it would only be temporary though – they both agreed that they could not live together without it resulting in murder.

During that time he met Janice. They hit it off at first, but after a while her mannerisms got on his nerves. The two got together and broke up several times. Finally, they were together, and it was going pretty well. Months passed, and they got closer than they ever did before. A big help was that Ross and him were arguing almost every day over stupid apartment stuff, and Chandler would hide out at Janice's.

Eventually he was faced with their first anniversary. It got to the point where Chandler, not really having any other friends to spend his time with, was almost living at her apartment. He got to thinking how lonely he would be without her, how he seriously doubted he would ever be able to find anyone else. With the fear of becoming one of those housebound old men whose only company was his cat, Chandler forced himself to pop the question.

And has regretted it ever since the day they got home from their honeymoon.

Their relationship went downhill from there. It became very give-take, with Janice on the give side. She would constantly shower him with affection and urges to make their marriage more equal. When he always resisted, she gave up. She didn't even ask him if he was ready for a child anymore, even though they had been together for years.

Now they were simply two people living under the same roof, and they both knew it. It was only a matter of who would drop the atomic bomb that was a divorce request first.

Sighing, Chandler tilted his head as he studied her, guilt building up inside. _This is all my fault. Yes, she's annoying, but I was the one who led her to believe I loved her._ Swallowing his pride, he silently went over and gave her a passionate kiss. A kiss that left her speechless while he picked up the garbage bag again and, carefully, walked a wide circle around the dog and out the door.

* * *

Parking in front of Pete's building, Monica turned off the ignition. However, she made no move to open the car door. Instead, she laid her head back and closed her eyes. 

_Do I really need to get this Id?_

_Yes, I do_, Monica told herself, letting out a very deep breath. This wouldn't be the first time seeing him since they signed the divorce papers, but that's not to say a sharp knife wouldn't have a good deal of difficulty cutting through the tension. With her eyes closed, Monica could almost see the huge fight that led to their separation.

_They had just gotten back from one of Pete's charity functions. Monica was exhausted. Her shoes were killing her, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from ripping off the dress she wore, undoubtedly worth more than the rent for her old apartment._

_Giving Pete a quick kiss on the cheek, Monica headed into the bedroom. 'Well, I'm beat. You coming?"_

"_Monica, wait." When she turned, he began, "Look, honey, I saw you eyeing some of the other men at the event tonight. Now, before you say anything, know that this is not the only instance this has happened. It bothers me a great deal, but I'll let it go. Just apologize and promise you won't do it again, and we'll be fine."_

_Her jaw dropping, Monica sputtered, "Wh-what? I wasn't…why would you accuse…"_

"_Don't bother arguing. I know you've been losing some weight lately and you've been getting some attention from the other men, but that doesn't mean you should return it," Pete stated, his gaze showing that he was still waiting for her apology._

_Ready to knock that smug little attitude right out of him, Monica mentally counted to ten. _Don't let him get to you,_ she reminded herself_, remember why you love him.

_After a minute of struggling for an answer, Monica was startled to realize that she didn't have one. While she had liked Pete when he asked her to marry him, she mostly agreed because of lack of future economic and romantic prospects. Sure, she guessed she'd grown to love him over the years, but there'd always been that tiny voice telling her that this marriage was totally false._

_She'd try to deny it. After all, what woman would leave a man who could buy her an entire department store, and wouldn't hesitate to do so if she asked? But eventually she couldn't contain her lack of passion for him. It was only a matter of time before Pete's intuition, the one that enabled him to do so well in business, picked up on it._

_She could tell he didn't want to acknowledge it either. Unfortunately, all his pent up frustration came to translate into paranoia. Feeling guilty about her apathy, when he admitted he couldn't stand it when she had male friends, she'd dropped the few she had. Still, the situation got worse. His jealousy and protectiveness grew whenever she was in a room alone with one of her friends' husbands, when she paid too much attention to one in particular…even when she so much as made eye contact with a member of the opposite sex._

_Now, now she had a decision to make. She could back down like she always did. Or she could finally stand up for herself. "Pete, I'm…"_

"_Yes?" Pete replied, wearing a knowing smirk._

_That was it. She'd been about to apologize again, but that all-knowing, "you can't live without me/ I'm always right" smirk drove her over the edge. "I'm not going to take this any more."_

"_Excuse me?" Pete retorted, obviously not expecting to hear that._

_Gaining a little more confidence with each passing second, Monica seethed, "I'm not going to take this any more. This insane jealousy…it's not working. I am not your possession. I am an independent woman who can speak to or look at whoever she wants to. And for the record, don't think I don't see you checking other women out too."_

"_My eyes are always focused on you. It's ridiculous for you to – "_

"_Is it?" Monica interrupted. "Why should I trust you when you obviously don't trust me?"_

"_Because _I_ love you," Pete snapped. There was a silence, then he started towards the bedroom. "If you love me, come to bed. If not…this pent house does have several guest rooms."_

_He gave a dramatic pause. When she stood there, he went into the bedroom, purposely leaving the door open. _

_After only a second of deliberation, Monica got her purse and dashed out of the pent house._

The memory still brought on waves of pain when she chose to relive it. Taking several deep breaths and letting them out slowly, Monica stepped out of the car. She approached the door, thanking her lucky stars that some guests were heading up and she didn't need to have him buzz her in. _He must be hosting Thanksgiving for our…_his_ friends._

She had to admit that only made her more nervous. She'd been secretly hoping that he would be somewhere else for the holiday and one of the staff could let her in.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she entered the pent house with the guests, and went off on her own in search of her Id tag. If fate decided to be nice to her she could get it without Pete ever knowing she'd stop by.

Of course, when was fate ever nice to her?

"Monica? What are you doing here?"

Plastering on a smile, she turned around. Her ex-husband was facing her wearing a confused expression. Several of the guests had stopped what they were doing to watch what was sure to be fodder for gossip.

Ordering herself to stop shaking, Monica calmly replied, "Hi, Pete. I-I just had to stop by to pick up something I left here. I would have waited for a better time, believe me, but I really need it today."

"Oh." Pete sent her a meaningful glance. He obviously knew she was referring to her Id tag, but didn't want all of New York's elite to know she was now a waitress. "Well, feel free to look around for it. And, um, if you're not in a hurry, you're welcome to stay for dinner. Though I'm sure you have your own plans."

"I do, but thank you anyway. I'll just…go."

With that, she turned around and headed in any opposite direction that would lead her away from the scene. She weaved her way through the crowd, desperate to find a bathroom or somewhere she could be alone…"

"Oh my God, Monica? I haven't seen you in months!"

If the voice had belonged to anyone else, she would have kept going. But instead she smiled with sincerity. "I guess we're not really in the same circles anymore. It's great to see you, Rachel."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dragging her into a spare bedroom, Rachel Green-Farber sat her former high school best friend down on the bed. "So, tell me! How have you been since…you know?"

"It was a divorce. You can say it," Monica answered, with bitterness in her tone that she hadn't intended. At Rachel's slightly hurt expression, she breathed, "Sorry. I guess it still stings a little."

"Understandable. I just wish you'd called me. I was really worried about you," Rachel replied, sitting next to Monica.

That threw Monica off a little bit. Once word had spread about the split, everybody had ousted her from the socialite circle without another thought. Yes, she and Rachel had their ties to high school, and out of the group she was the only one Monica would have called a real friend. Yet, when Rachel didn't call, it was concluded that she'd joined the rest of their posse in pretending Monica never existed in the first place. "You didn't call me either."

"I tried. I even called your parents. Boy, were they surprised to hear from me," Rachel laughed. "But even they didn't know where you were hiding. I couldn't reach you on your cell either."

Monica wasn't sure what to say to that. All she knew was that she always had thought of Rachel as different from the others. She played the part of an heartless self-absorbed snob perfectly, but Monica could tell that underneath the exterior was a kind, caring individual who was yearning for an alternate, independent lifestyle. Rachel was why Monica had been accepted into the social life of the wealthy in the first place – because she had begged tem to be nice to her old friend from high school. Now, hearing that made Monica realize that all her assumptions about Rachel's real personality had been right. And there was nothing she loved more than being right.

"Wow…that's so sweet…I didn't think anyone would try to contact me. Aw, that's so sweet!" Monica cried, wrapping her friend in a hug.

Returning it, Rachel broke apart. "So, tell me! What have you been doing?"

"Well…don't laugh okay?" Monica pleaded. When Rachel nodded, she answered, "I moved back into my old apartment. It's still rent controlled, but I don't want to be totally dependent on the money from the divorce. So…I'm a waitress. I mean, I wanna be a chef eventually, but this will have to do for now."

Rachel didn't say anything for a moment, just put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Aw, sweetie, everything will be okay. Being a waitress isn't that bad, is it? All you have to do is get people their order."

"Yeah…" Monica replied, slightly unsettled by the abrupt feeling of déjà vu. "Enough about me. How's Barry? Is he still your lobster?"

"My what? What does that mean?" Rachel asked, amused.

Monica paused, not even sure herself where that had come from. "Never mind, I just heard it somewhere…I think. But really, how are you two?"

"Eh, well, you know how it is," Rachel waved a hand dismissively. "We're coming up on our ten year anniversary."

"Congratulations!" Monica exclaimed.

Sighing, Rachel replied, "Thanks, I guess. In all honesty, though, it's not much to celebrate."

"Rachel, is everything okay with you and him?" Monica asked, very concerned about Rachel's nonchalant attitude towards her marriage.

Rachel shrugged, twirling a piece of her curly hair. "Yeah, I mean, it's how it's always been, but I think that's part of the problem. Don't get me wrong, the sex is great…"

"Good, 'cause I was worried," Monica deadpanned.

Rachel continued, "But…I always thought we'd be better as a couple over time. I mean, I'm not stupid – I know he cheats on me."

"Why do you put up with it? Leave him. I left Pete, and he never even cheated on me," Monica suggested.

"You make it sound so simple," Rachel reminded her. "I'm not strong like you, Monica. If I leave Barry, that's it. To my father, Barry is the perfect guy – rich, a steady job, and a good name. Mon…I could be cut off! _I'd_ be the waitress! And I don't have the rent controlled apartment to fall back on! And not to mention the humiliation of being rejected by people I've known my whole life."

Hugging her again, Monica comforted, "I'm so sorry. But, if you do decide to leave him, you can stay at my place. Rent free, until you get on your feet."

"Oh my God, that's so nice of you. I don't think I know anyone else who would do that for me," Rachel cried, near tears. "It's funny…wait, if I tell you this, will you totally swear not to tell anyone?"

Monica held up a hand, as if swearing on the Bible. "I swear."

"On my wedding day," Rachel began. "I almost left Barry. A few hours before the ceremony, I crawled out the bathroom window, with every intent of never going back. For some reason, your name and address popped in my head. I took a cab to your apartment, but you weren't there. One of your neighbors was there, some guy with a hammer, but he had no idea where you might be."

"Oh my God," Monica breathed.

Wiping away some tears, Rachel went on, "So I…I went back. I didn't know where to go, I started doubting myself...I went back and no one even noticed I was gone."

"Aw, come here," Monica wrapped Rachel in a hug, near tears herself. "Everything will be okay."

* * *

Walking down the street, Chandler couldn't help but feel a little pleased with himself. Hopefully, that kiss had put Janice in a good mood, and the rest of the day would be more tolerable.

It was only a short trip to the deli, which doubled as an all-purpose market. Finding the eggs and milk was a snap, but it took him a minute to locate the cinnamon, mostly because he had no clue what the color it was. Carrying the ingredients in his arms, he dumped them on the single check out counter.

"Hey, how you doin'?"

Chandler glanced up, thinking the Italian cashier was talking to him. However, a quick glance behind him proved that he was addressing the very hot women who had just come in. She gave the cashier a seductive smile before going to browse the isles.

Whistling, Chandler turned to face the cashier. His name tag read "Joey." "So, you get a lot customers like that in here?"

"Oh yeah," Joey answered, wearing a grin. "Sometimes it's all I can do to stop myself from sticking my head in the meat freezers, if you know what I mean."

"Really? Man, what am I doing working with numbers?" Chandler joked, instantly liking the man.

Laughing, Joey looked down at the groceries. "Okay, what do we have here...look, the cash register's broken. I bet a math person like yourself could add this up in two seconds."

"I take it you're not a 'math person'," Chandler retorted, using air quotes.

Joey wrinkled his brow. "Okay, I don't know what this," as he did the air quotes, "means. And no, I've never really been good with math. Or reading, for that matter, unless you count comic books and cereal boxes."

"Okay, fine, I'll add it up." While he did so, Chandler kept glancing up at Joey, getting a weird feeling. "Hey, um, have we…met before? At a party or something?"

"No, but you know what it might be? I used to play a big part on Days of Our Lives," Joey bragged.

Chandler raised an eyebrow. "Right, because I look like someone who lives for soap operas." After a short silence, he asked out of curiosity, "Wait, if you were an actor…what are you doing here?"

"Working. I know it's Thanksgiving, but I could really use the money," Joey explained, totally missing the point.

Smirking, Chandler clarified, "No, I mean why are you a cashier if you were on your way to being a successful actor?"

"Oh, that," Joey replied. "Well, I tried to make it big in the acting business for years. I used up all of my savings, only getting odd parts here and there. I would have continued after DOOL…that's Days of Our Lives…but I couldn't afford it anymore. I got some money from the show, but I had to pay for rent and food….head shots and acting classes got to be too expensive after a while."

"Wow, that's really too bad. I bet you would've been famous one day," Chandler sympathized.

Nodding, Joey responded, "I think I could've."

Finished with the groceries, Chandler took out a twenty and put in Joey's hand. "Okay, there's the total on that receipt paper. You keep the change."

"Hey, thanks man!" Joey exclaimed when he saw the twenty. "I wish all my customers were as quick with the numbers as you. I can't wait to get out of here."

"Family dinner?" Chandler guessed.

Joey shook his head. "That too, but mostly cause there's gonna be a Baywatch marathon _all day_."

"There is?" Chandler replied, perking up at the thought. "That is awesome! Thanks man! I am so channel surfing for that!"

As Chandler walked away, Joey called, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Chandler," Chandler called back before leaving.

Before he could fully exit, however, he heard Joey say to a coworker, "Chandler…kinda sounds like chandelier, doesn't it?"

Chuckling to himself, Chandler paused when he reached the sidewalk, the plastic bag full of groceries swinging at his side. _Do I really want to go home yet?_ While Janice would be in a better mood, her mother was probably there already.

Deciding that it couldn't hurt to kill some time, Chandler searched the street for a cab. Spotting one parked by the sidewalk, he got in the back seat. "Hey, can you take me to…"

"Nope, sorry, get out."

Chandler blinked. The blonde woman was staring at him, her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, what?'

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "This is a non-functioning cab. It is a personal mode of transportation. Get out."

"Wait. You can have a taxi as a car? That is so cool!" Chandler remarked, looking around the cab interior.

Smiling at the compliment, the woman stuck out her hand. "I'm Phoebe."

"Chandler. Nice to meet you." Shaking her hand, Chandler questioned, "So has this ever happened before? Or am I the lucky first moron?"

"No, you're not the _first_ moron," Phoebe laughed. Sizing him up, an odd look came over her face, as if she recognized him from somewhere. Chandler found he was experiencing that same sensation.

Shifting uncomfortable, he moved to open the door. "Well, I guess I'll go get a real cab."

"Now hold on. Where do you need to go?" Phoebe asked.

Chandler hesitated. "I don't know. I'm kinda in the mood for a good cup of coffee. Do you know a place?"

"Actually, I do. It's this great place a few blocks away I play guitar at sometimes," Phoebe explained. "It's called Central Perk. I'll take you there if you want."

"Yeah, thanks!" Chandler replied, surprised by his stroke of luck.

Smiling at him in the rearview mirror, Phoebe responded, "No problem. It is Thanksgiving, after all. We just have to wait for my fiancé to get back from the store. I sent him in to get some oatmeal. Can't make oatmeal cookies without that, can I?"

"No, I guess not," Chandler chuckled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

A/N: This is it! Thank you everyone for their reviews, especially the people who reviewed every chapter. You're all awesome!

And I know I posted these last chapters quickly, but I'm going home from college today and I won't have access to this website.

* * *

Monica took deep, calming breaths all the way from the pent house. In all honesty, Rachel's confession about her marriage and her almost-desertion rattled her more than the miniscule confrontation with Pete. She knew Rachel and Barry were far from the perfect couple, but she didn't realize how trapped her friend really was. The guilt was building up inside. While she knew Rachel's predicament wasn't directly her fault, she could still yell at herself for not being home that day.

It stunned Monica a little how fake lives could be. Her non-marriage to Pete was a complete farce, yet they kept it going for about seven years. Even when she gained the weight back after she started living with Pete and a full time chef, he stuck by her side, ever the dutiful husband.

He had constantly pressured her, begging for a child. But she had resisted. Deep down, she knew that if they had a kid, she would be bound to Pete for the rest of her life. And she knew then she wouldn't be able to handle that.

Suddenly, she took a wrong turn. For some reason, she didn't want to go home yet. She had this urge for a really good cup of coffee.

Cruising for a while, her eye fell on a shop front with an inviting picture of a cup of coffee on the front. She recognized it as the place Phoebe sang at every once in a while. Though she usually attended Phoebe's "concerts," she didn't go into the shop for anything else. She'd long ago invested in her own coffee maker.

Still, why not kill some time. She had a good hour before she started her shift.

Parking, Monica was about to get out when her cell phone rang. Raising an eyebrow at the unfamiliar number, she answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Monica? It's Ross."

"Ross…" Monica froze, confused. She hadn't spoken to him in weeks. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong. I just wanted to apologize for the way our conversation went earlier. You know, the one where I told you I'd see you at Christmas."

Monica wrinkled her brow. "What conversation? I didn't talk to you today."

"You didn't? I could've sworn…you called earlier, asked about serving dishes…my friend was with you…"

"Look, Ross, I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe it was a dream or something," Monica sighed, growing impatient. She was really getting the urge for some coffee.

"I guess so. Although, it is a shame we don't keep in contact. Aren't siblings supposed to get closer as they get older?"

Laughing softly, Monica replied, "You're right about that. It shouldn't be too hard. Our relationship hit rock bottom when we were kids. The only place to go is up."

"Tell me about it. Most of my childhood memories are of Mom and Dad yelling at us to stop fighting."

"You mean yelling at me to stop bothering you," Monica corrected, her tone bitter as she remembered the favoritism.

There was a pause. "You know, they do love you. Mom's really upset you're not coming this year."

"Yeah, I'm sure. No one criticize for making the worst mistake of her life," Monica retorted, referring to how her mother viewed her break up with Pete.

"She'll come around. Want me to tell them you said hi?"

"Why not," Monica replied. Realizing she was just sitting in her car, she explained, "Look, you caught me at a bad time. I'm sitting in my car outside a coffee place, and I don't think I'm gonna be able to curb my caffeine addiction any longer."

"Understandable. We'll catch up next week. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too," Monica returned, then closed her phone and got out of the car.

* * *

Meanwhile, Chandler was already enjoying some coffee and pastries on the couch in Central Perk. He was taking his sweet time eating, even though there was milk in his car. It wouldn't bother him if he stayed there the whole day; the couch was surprisingly comfortable. 

Besides, he might as well fill up now. He still didn't eat Thanksgiving food, at that's all there would be at dinner that night.

Casually viewing the various customers, his eye strayed to the window. A Porsche was parked out front. He himself had been thinking about getting a car; he could afford one, a nice one at that. However, he lived in Manhattan – why bother when he could take the subway or a cab?

Returning to his food, he found himself thinking about Janice. It crossed his mind before that it was only a matter of time before they got divorced. Did he really believe that? Were they that bad that their marriage couldn't be rekindled?

Did he _want_ their marriage to be rekindled? Or did he just not want a divorce? That was entirely possible. After living with Ross and seeing what he went through with Carol, it was easy to see why he would be divorce-phobic.

What it all boiled down to was…did he love Janice?

Taking another sip of coffee, Chandler paused. Then he quickly put it down and ran to the bathroom.

A second after, Monica entered the shop, trying to decide if she wanted to stay and eat or grab something to go. Pausing as a guy rushed passed her into the bathroom, she approached the counter.

"Can I help you?" The cashier asked.

Almost blinded by his white hair, Monica answered, "Yeah, I'll have a large cup of regular coffee. Milk, two sugars."

"Anything else?" he questioned while he began getting her drink.

Monica considered it. She knew she shouldn't – she still needed to lose a few pounds to get back to her pre-Pete weight. But the muffins did look really good, and it wasn't like she'd be having a huge Thanksgiving feast that night. "Um, yeah, sure. Oh, hold on, I don't think I have enough cash for that. Can I run back to my car?"

"Sure. I'll hold your coffee."

"Thanks," Monica replied, sprinting back to her car.

Chandler emerged from the bathroom a moment later and went back to his seat. He checked his watch. Chances were, most of Janice's family was there already. It wouldn't be fair to leave his wife with all the hosting duties. Sighing, he wrapped up his bagel in a napkin and put the lid on his coffee.

Rushing back in, Monica handed Gunther the money. "Sorry about that."

"No problem, here you go. Have a happy Thanksgiving," Gunther responded.

Monica smiled at him while she gathered her purchases. "Thanks. You too." She then looked around for a seat. She would've sat at one of the tables, but the big orange couch was very inviting. Besides, it was empty – the guy who had been sitting there had just left.

Sitting down, she took a long sip of her coffee and let out a sigh of content. After a minute, though, she saw a leather wallet that had been left on the edge of the table. Figuring it must've belonged to the guy who left, she grabbed it and rushed out the door.

Chandler stood at the edge of the sidewalk, trying in vain to hail a taxi. Traffic was nuts, and every cab sped by him, full of people. Thinking it would be easier to take the subway, he felt in his pocket for his wallet, figuring he might as well get out the two bucks now.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He glanced up at the feminine voice, toward Central Perk's front door. _Wow,_ he thought. A beautiful woman with stunning blue eyes was running towards him, his wallet in her hands.

She was out of breath once she reached him and handed over the wallet. "I found this on the…"

The two made eye contact, and for both of them it was as if the world stopped spinning. Both were panting, her from the run; him from lust.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Chandler wrapped her in his arms and gave her the most passionate kiss he'd ever given anyone in his life. "Monica…"

"Chandler…." She breathed, kissing back with equal passion. "I love you."

Breaking apart solely to get some air, he replied, "I love you too. Come on, let's go home."

Arms still wrapped around each other, the two began walking back to their apartment. Passing Monica's Porsche, she ignored it. She could get it later.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Chandler." Kissing him again, Monica couldn't stop smiling.

Chandler paused, but then grinned and kissed her back. "Happy Thanksgiving."

* * *

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Thanks again! 


End file.
